


For the Love of a Corpse

by Miynxe



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Apocalypse, Head trauma, M/M, OC background characters - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sort of major character death but not really, Zombies, klangst, necrophilia maybe if youre really sensitive to that?, tame zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 22:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7482927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miynxe/pseuds/Miynxe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after the beginning of the end of the world, Lance will do anything to hold onto what he has left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Love of a Corpse

If anyone had reason at all to think they might survive the entirety of the outbreak, it was very likely Lee Yorman. When the end of the world began he’d been in the city. In the city, in a school on a low-paying janitor job, and had somehow managed to save a gaggle of students and a few teachers when the school had been raided by a horde. They continued on as a group together, and though his herd had thinned, Lee shepherded onward, even finding a small empty town called Valley Harrison and settling down to fortify it. He got his people to go about figuring the way those infected with the disease behaved, and how to better prevent contact. He was an organized man whom people relied on.

Though no stunning shot himself, he taught the kids to shoot and how to maintain their weapons. He had survived the loss of an arm, the loss of his family, raids, and hoards. Lee lived by virtues of compassion, fairness, and watchful eyes over his people to keep them alive the way he had. It was those watchful eyes that lead him to where he was now. 

 

Lance did not think about the compassion and fairness that had allowed him to take refuge in Valley Harrison. He didn't think much of anything in fact. For those watchful eyes had grown curious, suspicious even. They'd followed Lance to where he disappeared in the hills to a little old shack, with a little old cellar. The listening ears heard the groaning and the gurgling. Lance knew what he had to do. He picked up that loose old brick from the fireplace, and rushed the 30 year old.

Lee Yorman barely had his arms up to protect himself when he fell to the floor. 

The skull broke, broke, and broke again. It splintered and the flesh ripped, brain and gore spilling out over the raw wood floorboards. Smash, smash, smash.

The head became more and more misshapen as it gave way until it was little more than a grotesque pulp. His chest heaved and sweat poured down his face from the effort but Lance continued striking and striking, the head beneath him collapsing into mush until the panic faded and Lance’s senses finally returned to him.

He looked at his handiwork Lance shut his eyes tight and, with shaking hands, gently placed the blood slicked block on the floor. Trembling, he sucked in a sharp breath of air as he wiped his hands on the back of Lee’s jacket. Lance closed his eyes, this was easy. Too easy. He’d done it before, he’d done it too many times before. Curiosity, curiosity, he absolutely hated fucking curiosity. Why couldn't Lee have just ignored him slipping away? Why couldn't he have accepted the lies he used to cover up what he was doing?

Fingernails scratching against the wood below him wrought Lance back to the present moment. Standing, he took another deep breath and crouched beside Lee’s body and took hold of the old, dusty rug in the middle of the room, and tossed it. There underneath was a little bitty trap door. Lance threw it open and knelt down by the opening, carefully reaching down into the darkness. A gurgle sounded directly below him, a shape moving in the dark. When it came into focus Lance smiled and touched that face. That perfect, expressionless face. 

Keith’s face. Keith’s dead face. That was an adjective Lance tried to avoid. It made his nose scrunch up and it made him remember-

He shut that mental box before it could open. 

A smile and a strand of hair tucked behind Keith’s ear later and Lance was pulling an old sack towards him. Inside lay the corpse of a feral dog that had been giving the local sheep hell. “You hungry? It's time to eat.” 

Lance felt fairly sure Keith knew the word “eat” because whenever he heard it he would turn or reach, as he was doing now. Lance slid the dog into the cellar below the house, gently closed the hatch, and put the rug back in place. He stood and turned to look at what remained of Lee. Getting rid of bodies was a true pain in the ass.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys! This was a preview of sorts to see if people are interested in reading a story of this nature. If you are, please leave a comment/kudos or let me know on tumblr at TheBeansMecha. This short section took a lot of editing and several days to write, so i want to be sure that people are interested in this before i put a ton of time and effort into making a full blown story.


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